


Blood Rules

by ohnojustimagine



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, F/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnojustimagine/pseuds/ohnojustimagine
Summary: Roman's back, but it's hard to believe someone could change this much.
Relationships: Roman Reigns/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 14





	Blood Rules

He's been back for a few weeks before you're brave enough to try and see him, _talk_ to him.

He keeps to himself backstage now, has his own private locker room, doesn't mingle. Not like he used to, and he's changed, you know that. Everyone knows that, anyone can see. But he's still _Roman,_ you're sure, because no one changes _that_ much. 

You remember how it used to be; you in his lap, cradled in those powerful arms, his mouth on your neck and his teeth so quick and sharp that the bite was always more pleasure than pain, and then him _feeding_ from you; the soft, gentle sound of him swallowing as he drank, the heady feeling of it enveloping your whole body. He'd kiss you, after, the taste of your own blood lingering in your mouth as he undressed you, slowly.

You smile to yourself, standing in front of the door labelled _Roman Reigns_ , and you're about to knock when it's thrown open with some violence, a girl rushing out. She's crying, one hand held to the side of her neck and she hurries away without even looking at you, her choked-off sobs echoing down the hallway.

You watch her go, frowning, and when you turn back around, the door is again closed, but Heyman's standing in front of it, looking you up and down with an undisguised sneer.

"Can I help you?" he asks, tone practically dripping condescension.

"I'm here to see Roman," you say, and Heyman gives you a small, spitefully sarcastic smile.

"I'm afraid," he says, speaking slowly, as if to indicate he thinks you'll have trouble understanding, "the Tribal Chief isn't taking visitors right now."

And maybe you should just leave it, come back later, but this guy's enough of a dick that you decide to be stubborn. "I think he'll want to see me," you state, calmly.

Heyman looks at you for a long moment, then shrugs. "Fine," he replies, and knocks twice on the door, opening it just enough that he can peer inside.

He says something you can't quite hear, and you hear Roman's voice reply, the words muffled.

"Okay," says Heyman, and he opens the door, standing aside to let you in, giving you an exaggerated little bow.

He stays outside, thankfully, and you quickly glance around the room as you enter, finding it dimly lit and mostly bare, just a table, a few chairs. There's a bed set up in one corner, the sheets messily rumpled, and you try to not to think about what that means.

Roman's sitting in one of the chairs, looking at you, dressed in black pants and a black tank top, his hair pulled back. "Hey, baby," he greets you, face all at once breaking into an easy smile. "Been a while." And you're not sure how it's actually physically possible that he's become even hotter during his absence, but it seems he has, because the sight of him literally takes your breath away.

"Hi," you say, trying not to sound awkward, and when he doesn't say anything more, you're not sure what to do. "Yeah," you go on, nodding, "I thought you might want to..." You gesture at your neck, but then suddenly remember the girl you just saw leaving. "Unless you've already..."

"No, no," Roman interrupts. "You know me, always hungry."

"I remember," you say, but you're not so sure you remember it being like _this_.

"Come sit with me," he says, patting his thigh, and you find yourself hesitating, uncertain. "Am I making you nervous?" he asks, raising his eyebrows a little, seemingly amused.

"No, of course not," you say, shaking your head. "No, like you said, it's just been a while." You swallow, because you could swear there's something not _right_ about this, about _him_ , some tiny nagging warning bell sounding in the back of your brain in a way that you can't quite make sense of, but this is _Roman_ , you tell yourself.

And so you smile, walking over, sitting yourself sideways across his lap, and his arms wrap around you and it's like you're _home,_ sweet and safe and familiar, any doubts instantly forgotten.

"Right where you belong, baby girl," Roman says, softly, fingers smoothing your hair back behind your shoulder, out of the way, and you tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

You hear him hum to himself as he licks along your throat, tongue wet on your skin, and you have to hold your breath, waiting, your heart racing with anticipation. He lets out a quiet hiss, and then you feel the sharp, brief sting of his bite, making you gasp, but then he starts to drink, and warmth floods through you.

And _god_ , you think, sighing in contentment, because you've missed this, and it's every bit as good as you remember. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the strange, almost profound intimacy of it, a closeness that's like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, every inch of your skin alive, heart pumping inside your chest, your body giving itself over to Roman, his need.

You lean into him, letting go, _trusting_ , falling.

But then something creeps in under the bliss of it, your head starting to spin in a way that's verging on discomfort and you realize that he should have stopped by now, that he's taking _way_ more than he ever has before.

"Roman," you say, nudging him lightly, but he ignores you, continuing to drink.

"Roman," you repeat, louder, and his arms tighten around you as you struggle a little, try to push him away, and you're suddenly dizzy, light-headed, the room feeling as if it's moving around you. 

"I-I can't..." you stutter out, starting to truly panic. "It's too much, I..."

Roman stops, pulling away just enough, but he doesn't let you go.

"It's better like this," he whispers against your neck, licking at the wounds there, his teeth scraping across your skin. "When you're afraid, I can taste it." You hear him laugh, feel his breath on your throat. "Fear makes the blood sweeter," he murmurs, his teeth sinking back in, and you cry out, already too weak to fight him, even when his hand wanders down between your legs, pushing them apart, sliding under your skirt, into your panties.

He sucks harder at your neck, drinking even more deeply, and your body responds, the rush of your blood pulsing through you, your pussy swollen and wet, his fingers slipping inside you with ease, his thumb teasing at your clit.

You let out a whine, and you're drifting away, like you're floating, vaguely aware you're about to lose consciousness, but just before you're gone, he again stops, lifting you up, gathered into his arms as he carries you over to the bed.

He lays you down, and you sprawl out beneath him, unable to move or even protest as he undresses you, moving around you, shifting your limp body with efficient ease, removing your clothing piece by piece until you're naked.

He kneels over you, legs either side of your thighs, staring down at you.

"Please..." you whisper, weakly, barely able to hear yourself, and you don't know what you're asking of him, but he only smiles, teeth stained red with your blood.

"You're so beautiful like this," he tells you, and you watch, helpless, as he takes off his tank top, reaching back and pulling the tie out of his hair, shaking his head so it tumbles down over his shoulders in loose waves. He unzips his pants, taking out his cock, hard and proud in front of him as he strokes it, darkened eyes raking over your body, his gaze hungrily possessive.

And you have to close your eyes as he bends your legs up, spreading them wide, thighs splayed before him as he settles himself down over you, weight heavy on top of you. 

He licks at the marks he's left on your throat, tongue teasing at them until you feel the sting of leaking blood dripping down your neck and you whimper. "Shhh, baby girl," Roman murmurs, reaching down, guiding his cock into you, and even in this state, you're wet for him, taking him in, your body unresisting, and maybe, you think, you _want_ this. Maybe you've always wanted it like this, pleasure like something faint and far away as he starts to fuck you, slow and hard.

He takes his time with it, kissing you, sucking on your neck, his cock thick and relentless, going deep, fucking you open until you feel you might break, come apart and be remade for only this, for _him._

He moans as he comes, thrusting into you, and perhaps there's an answering echo somewhere inside you, but you can't tell anymore, numb to it, disconnected from yourself, fading.

Roman stands up, zipping his pants, and your vision is blurring in and out of focus but you can see Heyman standing there beside him, and if you cared, you'd wonder how long he's been there.

"Vince wants to see you," he says to Roman, who nods.

Heyman stares at you, his upper lip seeming to curl in disdain, and you want to turn over, hide yourself, but you can't, lying there, exposed to his gaze. And you know what's he thinking as he turns to Roman. "Do we... need to deal with her?" he asks, carefully.

"She's fine, she'll be out for a while." Roman looks down at you, smiling. "I'm going to want her again later, anyway."

Heyman laughs, shortly. "The Chief has his needs."

"Exactly," Roman says. He leans over, kisses your forehead, lips gently tender on your skin. "Be good, baby," he tells you, softly. "I'll be back soon."


End file.
